Gold Leaves go about their dreaminess the au naturel way, and they're all the better for it.

Be the Void might be the band's least accessible offering yet, but it's certainly their bravest--and given some breathing room, it might just prove their most rewarding.

It’s also one of the best-sounding records of 2009, with a simple, clean style and plenty of piano, banjo, and pedal steel to flesh out the dynamics.

Heart of My Own amplifies guarded things, a tuneful prototype of new-century folk intent on having its voice heard.

whereas Krell's keening, pleading falsetto dominated Love Remains, Total Loss finds him granting the rest of his sonic palette more prominence.

A return to what Jones does best: Stax-inspired soul-rock showpieces, brassy ballads, and an emphasis on the massive voice itself, which hasn't dissipated a scintilla since 1964.

There's not much fault to find with the music here, however, particularly when she elects to dial down the raw-edged guitar fuzz the Bastards have become known for.

Still blessed with cleverness, tunes, sass, and youth, she generally pulls it off.

The music here is visceral enough that it holds its own in the legacy of the project.

The Cost... captures them at their best.

The great news is that even the bad news is good news: Alabama Shakes have a hell of a lot of growing to do, but even their slightest tunes pack a punch.

Urban has the market wisdom to balance his artistic efforts with assembly-line Nashville pop-chart fodder.

A lovely, thoughtful album.

Although Citrus allures with its dizzying waves of sound and airy melodies, the band never let those elements become tangential or spiral off into cul-de-sacs of pointless theatrics.

Lupe’s new sophomore disc, Lupe Fiasco’s The Cool (Atlantic), is way too long.

Spine Hits as a whole is a tighter operation, less intended to soundtrack your mushroom trip, but a worthy attempt to bridge the gap to the mainstream.

If there's a knock to be had against the Harlem rapper, it's that he lacks an original presence. So it's curious that for his major-label debut he's opted to further venture down the rabbit hole of references, loading Long.Live.A$AP with a bevy of guests with personalities far more distinctive than his own.

Jimmy Eat World go to great lengths to recapture the anthemic thrills of "Clarity"--and give or take a few bouts of brooding cynicism, they’ve succeeded.

She layers airy, tightly harmonized vocal hooks over sleek synths, strummy guitars, and booming hip-hop beats, and the songs broadcast their emotional content--anxiety, melancholy, resilience--with a straightforwardness you rarely hear outside children’s music. That simplicity doesn’t detract from the ample melodic and textural pleasures, but it does give Down to Earth a limited shelf life.

Some tracks, of course, are as sexy as a soggy batch of freedom fries once the words are comprehensible. But the best updates... have a seedy splendor all their own.

Damaged isn’t the most tuneful record Wagner and company have made.

Beyond a scrappy/winsome take on the Beach Boys' "Shut Down," there's not much to distinguish one track from another. It's all shits-and-giggles, all the time.

Something To Die For has the Swedish dance/pop outfit awkwardly dipping a toe into the pool of trance music.

The misstep here is that it all sounds too safe - rarely does he deviate from the sweet, melodious splendor of previous S&S discs.

On its own, Pierce's clever lyrical ache resonates; but in extended play, his yearning and preening against twee surf-pop and minimal electro-pop can grow tiresome.

It’s their honest simplicity that offers a refreshing contrast to the irony of neo-new-wave disco retreads that are all the rage in the UK.

The tracks are re-released here, along with some extras, and mostly betray a songwriter still finding his own voice.

Of course, there are neat textures and chilled-out sounds. But by the end of the record, you have only a few tunes or hooks to serve as a souvenir of the 44-minute journey you've just taken.